That's What Brothers Do
by Kiwikewte
Summary: The events of 5th and 6th year have changed everyone, and opened their eyes to the new war. We follow Ron, Hermione, and Harry as they search for horcruxes and leave loved ones behind. RonHermione, HarryGinny
1. Homecoming

"Thanks," she murmured, climbing in the Ministry car as Ron took her trunk. She tapped her shoes on the threshold of the door to purge them of their wetness. Her hair was dripping wet, as were her clothes. She found she really didn't mind.

Ron heaved her trunk in the back of the car carelessly before taking a seat next to his younger sister. She involuntarily shivered. Her hands were wet, her knuckles slight purple. Ron's teeth were chattering, his face pale. Other than his chattering, they sat in silence, waiting for their parents.

Molly and Arthur were off somewhere else – no doubt fighting. What about, Ron could make an educated guess, but he didn't know for sure. Unfortunately he could hear their muffled voices yelling. He couldn't make out their words, no matter how much he strained his ears. He wanted to hear what they had to say – but at the same time didn't. What would he give for a pair of Extendable Ears?

When Mr. and Mrs. Weasley finally came back, both were fuming. Arthur looked straight ahead , not looking at his wife, or anyone else for that matter. Molly kept on offering exasperated and annoying sighs that agitated Ron after just ten minutes. Why couldn't they just resolve their problems without fighting? Surely they could sort things out without bickering at each other. He did not know of any couple that bickered so much.

He glanced at Ginny to see how she was feeling about their parents. The usual Ginny would roll her eyes, or raise her eyebrows. But this Ginny.. her expression was blank, as were her chocolate eyes. She was pale and faraway. Ron felt a swooping sensation of dread in his stomach as he stared at her, trying to make eye contact.

She paid no heed to her older brother. In fact, she paid no attention to him for the entire trip back to the Burrow. Ron eventually turned to stare out his window miserably. It was the most peculiar homecoming he had ever experienced.

There were no siblings home, so the house was silent as they entered through the rickety wood front door. Ron half expected to hear Fred and George start to tease him, or Bill to clap him on the shoulder. What would he give just to hear Percy brag about his bloody job? Or Charlie asking about how O.W.Ls went? Ron forlornly dragged his trunk up the stairs with Ginny just behind him.

"I want you two to put away your things right away," Molly said sternly, straightening out her blouse. "Then you come right down to dinner."

"Gee, think she'd be more happy to see us?" Ron tried to joke once they were at Ginny's landing. His voice wasn't dripping with its usual humorous sarcasm or his good nature. Because of this, and since she wasn't in the mood, Ginny didn't even offer a snort. She opened her door slowly, closing her eyes. She slid in slowly, clicking it shut behind her at a snail's pace.

Ron stared at her door, debating with himself. Did he dare?

No. She obviously doesn't want to talk to me… just look at her. Ron shook off his worry by thinking of his task ahead. Never had he actually put away his clothes in an orderly fashion. And this wasn't a different case. He shoved his clothes haphazardly in his small closet, avoiding the avalanche of the items already in there. Five minutes later he plopped onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling. Even the ghoul in the attic was quiet tonight.

He knew why he was feeling so lousy. And the answer was Ginny. Crickey, he hated seeing her like this! Ever since the bloody war, she was so… distant. He didn't understand it. She hadn't been hurt physically all that badly – nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix in a trice – so was there something she hadn't told him? That must be it. There was no other reason for her to be so aloof. Ron got up and ambled to her room.

"Ginny?" he said softly, opening the room up. It took him a moment to spot her in the dark room. She was sitting on her bed, her back to him. Her trunk hadn't been opened yet. He leaned against the doorway, waiting for her to answer. Her ears turned red for some reason. Weasley ears turned red for only two emotions – embarrassment or anger. He hoped it was the first. When she spoke, he gave a start. Her voice was harsh and sharp, like Hermione's became once a month.

"Go."

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked feebly.

"Go."

"Aren't you coming down for dinner?"

"Go."

"Want me to sneak you something?"

"Go."

Ron hesitated.

"LEAVE!" He dashed out just in time; a shoe whistled past his ear. He shut the door, tripping over the shoe and nearly falling down the stairs.

"Ron, is that you?" Molly called up.

"Yeah, I'm coming down," he said in disbelief. Did she just throw a _shoe_ at him?

"Okay," his mother said uncertainly. He heard her sigh again. With a backwards glance, he came down the stairs quickly, his mind not leaving Ginny.

It was one of the most peculiar scenes he had ever seen. In their cramped kitchen, with their huge table… there were three people. Three. Ron sat down across from his parents awkwardly. This wasn't right. The table should be creaking with food and elbows, booming with laughter, conversation, and yelling. It was silent. How could silence be so loud? There were a couple of dishes with a few plates and forks, but nothing else. His parents sat next to each other, but not really together. "Well, you've grown, haven't you?" Arthur said softly, examining Ron proudly from behind his glasses. Ron's ears went red. You can guess what Weasley emotion that represented.

"Yeah, I grew some centimeters."

"That's not what I meant."

Ron's cheeks matched his ears.

"What?" he said, his voice cracking. He felt like melting when his mum and dad exchanged knowing glances. He scooped food on his plate, not looking at them.

"Tomorrow you have some chores to do," Molly said, breaking the few minutes' silence that followed Ron's embarrassment. "You need to tell Ginny—oh, by the way --- where is your sister?"

"Sleeping," Ron said hastily. "She.. wasn't hungry. Real tired. Yeah. Party last night. Thought she'd get some sleep." "

Okay," Molly said, raising an eyebrow. "I hope there wasn't alcohol at this party. She seemed out of it on the way back."

"Of course not!" Ron said. "No, she didn't get drunk."

"Okay…" Mrs. Weasley said uncertainly "Well, anyways… you two need to degnome the gardens again, they're infested… weed the garden while you're there, oh and tend to all the plants, replant some that died…"

"Whoa… why all the work?" Ron whined. "Mum, we just got back!"

"You two are the only ones left, so you just have a little more work!" Molly said.

"So you think that putting us to work will keep our minds off the war?" Ron blurted.

"Don't raise your voice to your mother!" Arthur warned.

"Well, it won't work," Ron said, his voice still loud. "Did you just see Ginny? Working her out of her mind won't help. It'll make it worse!"

"It's better than sitting around, just to think about all that's going on!" Molly said, tears filling her eyes.

"Yeah, well working isn't going to kill V-v-voldemort, is it? It's not going to save lives, is it?" Ron said, a quiver in his voice.

"Working our tails off won't keep him off our mind. It's going to take more than a few chores. I don't think there's anything you can do. So back off." He didn't wait for their reaction. He knew they would explode at him. So he walked upstairs quickly and away from them.

"No," Molly said, grabbing Arthur's shoulder. He had started up the stairs after Ron. "No, Arthur." Her husband looked at her tiredly and apologetically.

"He's just upset," she whispered.

"That's no excuse—"

"It's alright," she said, waving her hand as if to brush aside his apology from the air. "We'll just give them a few days…"

Arthur nodded, looking out the window.

"Did you see his arms?" Molly asked, worry and pity filling her voice.

"Yes," Arthur said. "But I'm glad that's the worst that happened to him."

"What?" "Ron," Ginny repeated, shaking him more.

"What the – Ginny?" "Ron!" Ginny sobbed, hugging him tightly. At first he thought this was a dream, but the wetness on his bare chest was real. He tried to adjust his eyes to the dark. It was Ginny, in fact. Even in the dark, her hair was the brilliant red.

"Shhhh," he said, patting her back.

"Ron…" Ron let her sit on the bed next to him, still patting her back. He waited for her sobs to subside, which took some time. Finally, she spoke.

"I thought I lost you."

"I'm right here, Gin. Just please, stop crying."

"You were dead, Ron!"

"I'm alive, you just had a bad dream," he comforted.

"A bad dream?"

"Yes, Ginny. Just a dream, it wasn't real. See? I'm alive."

"I'm sorry… I'm being stupid…"

"No, you're not stupid. Don't ever say you're stupid."

"Ron… I'm just so worried… all this going on… you could die, Ron. Promise me you won't die… please…"

"I can't promise you that," he said blankly. "You know that."

"Please, Ron."

"I can't promise you I won't die, because –"

"Please, Ron, I'm begging you… I can't lose you…" she said franticly, clinging to his shoulders.

"No, listen," he said sadly. "Listen."

Ginny nodded, sitting up and letting go of his shoulders to look him in the face.  
"I've been thinking – and this war is just like a chess game."

"What? You're relating this to chess? That's not funny, how dare you joke about a thing like –"

"I'm a knight."

"What?"

"Ginny, I'm a knight on the chess board."

"Ron, you're not making any sense, what are you---"

"I can be useful in the game, Ginny. I protect the king. Do you know who the king is? On our side?"

"Ron, what's the point of this, you're being----"

"Who's the king, Ginny?"

"Harry."

"Yeah. So Harry's the king. And you and Hermione… to me, you're both the queen. Extremely valuable… but if you're lost, the game isn't over, just damaged pretty bad. But it's not as bad to lose the knight."

"Take that back." Ginny's heart started to beat harder in her chest, bouncing in her throat as she fought more tears. She knew what he was getting at.

"No, Ginny. I can be useful. I can only do so much. I'm there to back Harry up. And if I'm taken by the opponents… the game goes on." "No," Ginny sobbed, clinging to him tightly.

"No, no, no!"

"Hey," he said quietly, not looking at her. "I'm willing to go a square in front of the queen any day."

"No, Ron. You won't do something stupid to be the hero. Why would you save me? Why would you risk your life for me? I'm weak, I'm useless compared to you. Why would you save me?"

He thought for a moment, his eyes not leaving her watery ones.

"Because that's what older brothers do."


	2. Begging of Memories

(A/N: Also written pre-HBP, but still fits in. The next chapter will be after the HBP school year.)

She wished that Ron hadn't said those words.

The night before she had left Ron's room with new tears and her feeling of hopelessness had intensified painfully. Those stupid six words had cut her more deeply than even Michael Corner had.

_Because that's what older brothers do._

What was that supposed to mean? That he was going to stupidly get himself killed in this mess? She hated him just for thinking such a thing. How dare he play with her feelings like that.

But still, a part of her was confused. Ron had always been the average older brother – he always picked on her, or ignored her. Then the next moment he wanted to protect her? And now he was going on about getting killed. Just the thought made her stomach clench.

Around ten the next morning she peeked out of her room. Last night's attempt at sleep had been fruitless.

She went downstairs cautiously. She was going to avoid Ron as much as possible this summer, she decided.

Luckily, he was not in the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were not present either. Ginny had struck gold. She sat down at the table, sighing deeply. She already knew that this summer was going to be dull. Mrs. Weasley had not barked orders to them early this morning. Actually, Mrs. Weasley hadn't even woken them up. That seemed rather peculiar.

Ginny's thoughts returned to what had occupied her mind the night before. All those haunting nightmares about the war were what kept her up. They did not only appear in her sleeping hours though. They were constantly playing in her mind. It tortured her to see the ones she loved die. There was a lot more to why Ginny was in this slump. But she wasn't ready to tell Ron about everything else. She was going to keep it a secret. She didn't want to worry him more.

_There's no way to get away from this!_ she thought to herself. A huge lump formed in her throat as she shook her head against more tears.

She buried her face in her hands.

His eyes scanned the pond dazedly. This place held so many memories. Even the mud, bugs, and murky water made him remember better times. Tidbits of his childhood were tucked under the rocks and lily pads, peeking out and begging to be remembered. Every now and then pictures would flick through his clouded mind. The laughing moments would dapple sunshine on his stormy thoughts. It gave him a few seconds of reassurance; take him to a time and place he would never be in again. Then he would remember this fact and come crashing back down to reality. This process was repeated all afternoon.

Since when had he been so moody? Ron had always hated to reveal his feelings to anyone, let alone Ginny. He was supposed to be an average bloke, overshadowed by his best friend, the hero. He would never do anything impressive in his life. He would always just blend in with the crowd. Only few would remember his name and face. Just Ron.

Yet something stirred this mutual understanding. He had expressed his thoughts to Ginny last night. The words that had come out of his mouth had been far from normal. He had told her he would sacrifice his meaningless life for hers.

He had told her the truth. He would die for her without a second thought. Her life was far more important. Ginny was turning into a beautiful young lady. She had such great potential. She was smart enough, with a unique personality that guys marveled at. She was a fiery girl, just waiting to explore the world.

Then there was Ron. Gawky teenager who didn't fit his hands and feet. The guy who was average in wits and average in everything he did. He was overshadowed by five brothers who all had success in life. He would probably never explore the world. No girls were amazed at his personality. He wasn't a hero of any sort. He was a failure at Quidditch. He ate a lot and possessed no manners. His ears went red when he was humiliated or angry. He had the Weasley stubbornness. His only notable skill was playing chess. Well, that did a great deal of good for him.

Something landed in the pond with a loud _kerplunk_!

He gave a start, his cheek ripping away from his hand.

A giggle came from behind him.

He whipped around, expecting the worst.

It was Hermione.

He gaped.

"Well, I thought you'd be more happy to see me?" she commented coolly. She lost her air within a second and smiled. She ran up and hugged him just as he stood.

"Why are you here so soon?"

"Yes, my parents were rather distraught about it… but they understood that a friend needed me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not stupid, you know," she said, sitting on the small boulder where he had perched the entire morning. "You mean to tell me the normal Ron sits still on a rock and stares at the water for who knows how long?"

"I was just messing around," Ron said, turning red.

"Oh, right," Hermione said. "Well when you're ready to talk, Ron… I'm here to listen."

Her tone had changed from sarcastic to sincere in one sentence. Ron stared at the water, turning a deeper shade of red.

"I don't know what you're going on about," he grumbled.

"Okay," she shrugged, standing. She started to walk back towards the Burrow.

"Hermione, wait…" he called after her.

"Yes?" she asked, turning back towards him.

Ron paused. He shook his head and turned away. He didn't know what he wanted to say to her. All he knew was that a feeling of appreciation was suddenly welling in his chest. He didn't plan on telling her that.

Hermione smiled sadly. She looked at the Burrow for a moment, then made up her mind. She sat back down next to him. She hid her face in her hair and didn't look at him. She sniffled. She was crying.

"Hey…" he said gruffly.

"Oh, Ron," she croaked. "This is just awful…just look at you and Ginny… we're all a wreck…"

He watched her in horror. Now he knew how Harry felt. A crying girl was a very touchy situation. He had never been so unsure of what to do. He ached to put an arm around her, but he just couldn't.

"It'll be okay," he said tentatively. She turned and looked at him, her eyebrows slowly knitting together. The pain in his eyes was obvious. She knew he was holding a lot in for her sake. He was trying to keep control. They say you can see a person's soul through their eyes. As she discovered his pain, her eyes bearing into his, she realised something. This had all finally impacted them. They all had finally realised the reality of the war. They weren't naïve children anymore. They were becoming adults.

She wished he would tell her how he felt. She wanted to be there for him. Knowing Ron, he wouldn't utter a word about how he was feeling. That would show a sign of weakness. He always felt obligated to be brave. She didn't blame him. She wished she were as brave as he. Then again, she _was_ a Gryffindor. She decided to put her bravery to the test.

She scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. She buried her face in his chest. He was so tall. She felt small there, against his chest. But there was a feeling of comfort here, one she had never experienced. It was almost addicting.

"It'll be okay…" he repeated, patting her back. It seemed like a nice thing to do. His hand slowly and awkwardly stroked her back. He looked over her shoulder at the retreating sun. The sky was darkening and the sounds of the pond had shifted. Just like with everyone in the war. The dark was taking over, and things were changing. But inside, Ron knew that the sun would rise. Morning would come. Morning always came. He wracked his brain for more words of comfort, for some wisdom. He wanted to tell her there would be morning. But he couldn't. Instead, he thought of the two most comforting words he possessed. He cleared his throat, but the words still came out in a croak.

"Don't worry."


	3. Parting Thoughts

(A/N: This chapter jumps ahead to after the HBP school year)

It had been the most dramatic year of their lives.

They had just accomplished their sixth and abruptly final year at Hogwarts.

The magnificent castle grew more miniscule, eventually obscured from view by mountains as the train chugged away.

Hadn't it been just yesterday that they had drifted towards Hogwarts in tiny boats as timid first years? Hadn't they just defeated Quirrell and Voldemort? Was it just a short while ago that they had found out the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets?

They had just recently saved Sirius Black from an unjust execution last week, right? Just yesterday Harry had been through the perilous journey of the Triwizard Tournament, then witnessed Lord Voldemort return. A few seconds ago they had been racing through the Department of Mysteries and battling for their lives.

They had just seen the Dark Mark on the astronomy tower and battled Death Eaters yet again. Dumbledore's limp and lifeless body was laid in a tomb a nanosecond ago. But of course none of this was true, the events all had been some time ago. Now Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger had all these adventures behind them. These seemingly recent events were now mere memories despite how long ago they had occurred.

That last train ride home had the most melancholy and numb air that had ever been contained in the Hogwarts Express. In the wake of Dumbledore's funeral nobody offered so much as a hushed whisper. It felt as though Dementors had boarded the train and were sucking the happiness from the air, leaving behind them a frigidly lost expression etched on the young faces of students.

Hermione Granger herself was still crying silently an hour after departure. She had kept her crying to a minimum this year, it had been one of her goals. Now that goal was tossed in the bin as she sobbed and pressed her forehead on Ron's welcoming shoulder. She felt vulnerable and weak when she cried. The funeral had just triggered something in her that had been fighting to be released for months. But, an hour after leaving Hogwarts for the last time, she was no longer weeping just for the sake of dear Dumbledore.

Now her tears slid down her face for the sake of the future that was to come. Though she gained a sense of the reality of war the previous summer, it was now intensified beyond imagination. How could they have been so blind as to not see how war affected everyone? As foolish children they had taken the news of another war lightly, not comprehending what war truly meant.

Upon thinking this, Hermione felt like they were no longer teenagers. They had been shoved recklessly and prematurely into adulthood at the ripe old age of seventeen. They had been robbed of the remainder of their adolescence. She didn't think Ron and Harry were ready to be adults… even _she_ wasn't ready to be one!

She looked up to Ron, who was rubbing her back absently and staring over at Ginny. He had only cried with Hermione for a few brief minutes. Those minutes had meant so much to her, the first sign of sensitivity Ron had shown over the course of the school year. He had been so sweet and understanding the previous summer, and then he had turned into someone she didn't know. Had that moment by the pond been just a fluke, a burst of uncontrollable feelings? If so or not, he had changed and developed so much in the duration of the school year. Not only emotionally was he an adult now.

Her watery eyes scanned his physical traits as if he had just been put under a spotlight after being in the dark for a year. His jaw line was firm and his lips were in a sort of pout as he looked worriedly over at Ginny. His eyes were the same light dazzling blue, but now etched with newly found wisdom and were hidden by his knitted eyebrows. On top of getting taller, his hands and legs finally fit his body, which was fuller and more muscular. His freckles were still numerous and his hair still red, but both seemed either duller or just darker after the year's experiences. It broke Hermione's heart to see her best friend like this. He had always been an immature boy to her, an annoying brother. But now she realized he had progressed from this particular stage.

Hermione then thought about how much they were in store for, with the war going on. One of them could be as dead as a doorknob by the next morning. They would be fighting for their lives just by searching for horcruxes. What if she and Ron got in a fight and never made up before one of them was dead? What if she never got to say goodbye? And where would they even start looking for these relics that held pieces of Voldemort's shattered soul? Just thinking about these dilemmas made her entirely exhausted. As the train chugged on and spat out billows of smoke into the sky, she relinquished the battle against staying awake and surrendered to the drifting waves of sleep.

Ron felt the side of Hermione's head press on his shoulder. Her puffy eyes were clamped shut, her cherry lips slightly parted. Her bushy hair was pressed against her cheek and also tickling his neck. She must have been really exhausted to zonk out like that. He sat back against the seat gently so he would be more supportive. Poor Hermione.

He looked back to Ginny, who he had been studying closely. She had a withered and defeated façade about her. Her freckles stuck out remarkably on her sickly face. She was tearless, unlike Hermione before she had fallen asleep. Her expression was blank; it was neither happy nor sad. The little makeup she had administered that morning was now smeared under her eyes, making her look like she had risen from the grave. On top of all this, she was sitting two feet from Harry. This seemed very peculiar to Ron; he would have imagined Harry and Ginny cuddling each other for comfort after the funeral. This must have meant his best friend was no longer dating his sister. The older brother part of Ron would have enjoyed this particular bit, but for some unknown reason in the recesses of his mind he felt disappointed.

Ginny felt very awkward with Ron's eyes studying her. She knew he wanted to talk one on one, and this was fine with her because she was willing to go into her feelings to him now more than ever. She had been trying to look controlled and happy which contrasted heavily with how she felt. Obviously Ron had noticed this. He had the same serious look on his face that he had worn a year ago when she had come crying to his room.

Her chocolate eyes rose to the level of Ron's icy ones. It was amazing how they could communicate without words. Right now he was telling her he had something very important to tell her, but couldn't in the presence of Harry and Hermione. Ginny said back with her eyes she would have to speak when they arrived back at the Burrow. She knew she had to open up to him eventually, seeing as she was going to have to face him all summer. Maybe they would make this summer fun. They could swim, play Quidditch, and joke like the good old days. They could just forget the war and all the sadness and have a good time. Although her brain was convincing herself that this would happen, her heart pumped blunt doubt through her veins.

The three best friends stood numbly once they had exited the unforgettable King's Cross. People carrying luggage swarmed around them, blissfully unaware of just how desperately hopeless the moment was. None of the three teenagers looked at each other immediately. All were at a loss of what to say.

Ron looked at the fragile Hermione and the valiant Harry. Hermione was looking forward into the distance, her eyes glazed. Although glazed was her look, the knowledge would always penetrate in the air around her. Every word out of her mouth would always be filled with facts and intelligence, but not necessarily wisdom. That would come to them all in time. Harry, on the other hand, was staring at the ground with a concrete look on his pale face. Bravery Ron could never achieve would always penetrate from Harry. His two best friends had a contributing part in their trio. What did Ron penetrate? What was so special about him? Throughout the stunned silence he searched for an answer.

In what seemed to be an explosion of movement, Hermione grabbed the two others and squeezed them to her like a boa constrictor. Ron expected her to burst into tears and start choking out, "I'll miss you two!" as usual. But this was not so; she remained tearless and silent. She let go after a moment or an eternity, Ron really couldn't decipher. Ron bit his lip against a laugh. How could he be laughing at a moment like this? Nothing was funny, nothing was happy in the world right now.

"I'll see you very soon," Hermione said to Ron, pretending not to notice the restrained grin on his face. She glanced significantly at Harry. "We'll start our mission after the wedding, right?"

"Right… when is the wedding anyway?" Harry asked in a hoarse voice. He had shifted uncomfortably at the word 'mission'. It couldn't be more apparent that he wanted to tie Ron and Hermione to the mermaid statue at the bottom of the lake back at Hogwarts.

"I'll send you an invite or an owl or something," Ron answered, his voice also hoarse from lack of use.

"Right… well, goodbye. I suppose I'll be seeing you soon. Dumbledore wanted me to visit my Aunt and Uncle one last time."

Harry turned on his heel. Ron almost grabbed Harry's sleeve. He wanted to express to Harry that Dumbledore's death wasn't his fault. He wanted to assure Harry it would be fine and they would pull through this mess together. But his hand remained clenched and chalky at his side.

"Are you ready, Ron?" Mrs. Weasley asked her youngest son. She looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly. "You look so … different."

"Good to see you too," Ron said dryly, not looking down at his mother. If he had offered so much as a mere glance, he would have noticed the gray wisps now peppering her bright red hair. He also would have noted the clothes hanging loosely on her much thinner frame. Instead he looked at the woman who he so longed to stay with. He nodded toward her, "Hermione."

"I'll see you soon, Ronald," Hermione said with a small smile, although this did not cover her depression. "See you, Mrs. Weasley."

"You can come to the Burrow at any time, dear. And don't look so grim! I'm sure Hogwarts will be open next year and that you will get to finish off your schooling. Hogwarts has always had a way of recovering from disasters."

"Yes," Hermione said guiltily. "Well I see my parents over there… I'll see you soon."

Ron watched her retreat slowly. Even her bushy hair seemed less buoyant as she crept away. Her parents didn't look much better. It looked as though they had gone without sleep for days. He realized this must have been a result of being informed of the death of Dumbledore and how close Hermione had come to death. He doubted whether or not her parents would have let her return to Hogwarts anyways.

"Are you ready?" Molly asked, placing a plump hand on her son's slumped shoulder.

"Yeah… where's Ginny?"

"Already in the car. We were able to get another one this year… seems the Ministry is trying to keep an eye out for everyone. And with your father's promotion, he's able to get by with more things, you see…"

"That's good," Ron said as they started towards where the car was parked. His trunk was starting to feel heavy in his hand and he longed to use magic to have it just float beside him. With a flicker of happiness he realized he could now legally do magic outside of school. Unfortunately he would never come to an age to permit legal magic use in front of muggles.

When they reached their destination Ron stuffed his luggage in the trunk of the Ministry car.

"Glad to have you two back. When we heard about Dumble— what happened, we were quite worried," Molly said loudly so her voice would carry to the back. "What was the funeral like? We weren't able to come, your father was busy with work and I've been working on the wedding…"

Something about Mrs. Weasley's voice expressed that she had missed the funeral on purpose. Ron fully understood this; going to the funeral would have confirmed that Dumbledore was in actuality no longer living. Seeing his dead body would have hammered the fact into her instead of it sinking in slowly.

"When is the wedding going to be?" Ron asked his mother, avoiding her question about the funeral.

"Four days. I've already sent out the invitations."

"What? That soon?" Ron asked, the should-be surprise absent from his voice.

"Well, yes… Bill is in good enough condition, and well… they wanted to get married as soon as possible," Molly said heavily. Obviously the couple had seen how close Bill had come to death and wanted to get married before another incident like that occurred again. "But really, how was the funeral? You two haven't told me yet."

"It was fine," Ginny said. "Lot of people there."

"I would imagine so," Mrs. Weasley sighed thoughtfully. "Dumbledore knew just about _everyone_…"

"And that's not an exaggeration," Mr. Weasley piped in. "Had a lot of connections. He was a great man, wasn't he? Smartest wizard of the age, he was."

Everyone fell silent after this small sort of eulogy. It was typical for Mr. Weasley to state the obvious. Of course Dumbledore had been the smartest, of course he had had many connections! To say he was the smartest wizard of the age was quite the understatement. Dumbledore had been the single source of comfort and knowledge in the anarchy of war. Now who would lead and direct the light against the ever growing and engulfing darkness?

Ron blinked quickly and looked out the steamy window. There wasn't much to see since it had already grown dark. The darkness was so much like this war, when he thought about it. In this instance, Dumbledore had been the sun. The sun was gone and showed no signs of reappearing. Of course, they always assumed the sun would rise just as they had assumed Dumbledore would pull them out of trouble and lead them. Now where were they? They were in the dark with only glimpses of a flame to light their way. How could they illumine the shadows with pitiable candles?

They arrived at the Burrow at a late hour. Ginny jerked awake when the car stopped, her cheek peeling away from the side of the door. She and Ron climbed out tiredly and dragged their luggage inside. Ron's body begged him to go to sleep immediately but his mind knew he had to speak with Ginny first.

"We need to talk," he said in a low whisper as they entered their house and ambled upstairs. She gave him a sideways glance as she dragged up her trunk, and then nodded. After all, they had already agreed on this with their eye conversation. Ron took out his wand and muttered, "_Locomotor trunks_." It felt good to do magic at home and not worry about a letter from the Ministry.

"Thanks," Ginny said quietly. The fact that Ron was legally an adult now made her heart break. She was the last Weasley child in the clan. At least she still had Ron, and he wouldn't be leaving for another year. She followed Ron, who was directing the trunks into her bedroom. He set them down then sat on her creaky bed.

"Aren't you going to unpack?" Ginny inquired.

"No, I have something to talk to you about first."

"I wanted to say a few things myself," Ginny said, smiling reassuringly despite Ron's maddeningly serious expression.

"Okay, then you go first," Ron said hastily. Something about his face and the way he was tapping his fingers on his lap made Ginny quite nervous to hear what he had to say. It was definitely bad news.

"Well, I was thinking on the way back from Hogwarts… we shouldn't let what happened ruin this summer. I mean this is the last summer before you move out, right? We should just try to forget all this mess, I think," she said timidly. "Ron, why do you look so pale? What's wrong?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably, provoking a squeaky noise from the bed. His blue eyes changed from icy bright blue to a slightly darker hue… or maybe that was just a fabrication of her imagination. She leaned against her wall. It had been pink ever since she had been born, in honor of being the first female born in the Weasley clan for generations. She had begged her mum to repaint it to green for the past few years, but for some reason, her mum wouldn't allow her to.

Ron wouldn't answer her; he seemed to be debating for the right way to approach whatever was on his mind.

"What's going on? Oh, let me guess… you and Hermione are an item now?" Ginny prodded.

"No!" Ron said hastily. "No, that's not it."

Ginny grinned, satisfied at the redness of his ears. It was an odd sight, to have his ears be so brilliantly cherry and his face to be so chalky white.

"I'm not going to be here this summer."

"Oh, did you get a job?" Ginny asked curiously. "About time. Mum and Dad are tired of giving you pocket money, it's about time you get a summer job to fend for yourse—"

"No, Ginny. I'm not going to Hogwarts next year," Ron blurted. Why did she have to make this so much more difficult? Her face turned from that of skepticism to outrage.

"Ron! Mum and Dad always said we can't drop out of Hogwarts, there's no way you could get a career good enough, you know that. What the bloody hell are you thinking?"

"No, Ginny. Dumbledore… he gave Harry a very important mission. And me and Hermione are going along," Ron said with utmost difficulty. Ginny's mouth did a funny sort of twitch.

"Very funny," Ginny said.

"I wish I were joking."

Ginny slid very slowly down the wall until her bottom hit the cold floor. She hugged her legs to her chest.

"Ginny, don't be like that! You've _got_ to understand this. I have to stick to Harry; he's my best mate. And chances are he's going to die in this thing. Me and Hermione have to be with him, we _have_ to help him."

"So you're going to be safe and peachy while Harry dies?" Ginny asked hollowly, her eyes resembling melted chocolate.

"I might die, too," he replied bluntly. He watched her face mingle and scrunch up against tears. Her altered face was fruitless in its attempt to restrain tears. Like tiny individual waterfalls they crept down her face. He watched her, poised for any reaction she might make. She got to her feet and faced the door, her hand reaching for the doorknob. Her shaking hand paused on the brass knob. She rested her reddening forehead against the cold wood. She then whispered her parting thoughts with her closest and dearest brother.

"That's the stupidest move you could make, Ronald Weasley. The other team's pawns will sweep the knight off the board. And the queen on the good side will crumble, crumble into fine dust."

Ron's heart started to thud so loudly he feared that her dramatic and abrupt pause was due to hearing it. Her voice didn't sound at all like her own, and she was talking in a bluntly poetic way that suited her manipulation of their metaphor.

She shook her head and let out a shaky laugh of disbelief as she continued.

" Who cares what happens to our king? _Who bloody cares?_ The king has selfishly neglected all players closest to him and can only see the squares to vanquish the other king. But you know what really matters in this game? The knight, Ron. The knight is all that really matters."


End file.
